


Darling & the Speedster

by darling_pet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Battle, Beauty & the Beast Inspired, Bickering, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eobard is a Charmer, Escape, F/M, Falling In Love, One Shot, Reader is a Prisoner, Reader-Insert, Romance, Threats of Violence, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: After bargaining to let a Legend keep his life, Eobard takes you, the Reader, as his prisoner instead. Might his motives have something twistedly romantic to them, and will you fall for him? For who could ever learn to love a villainous Speedster?





	Darling & the Speedster

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came from a tumblr request and takes place in my own version of the Doomworld: in particular, Reader is friends with conspiracy theorist Nate, and throughout the story, (though not mentioned) the Legends are *beyond slow* at remembering everything about who they are in order to change the world back. I had way too much fun writing this

__

 

_Have I done the right thing?_

This is the only question that has been running through your mind for... how long has it been again? It's hard to tell.

After begging for the corrupt S.T.A.R. Labs CEO, Eobard Thawne, to spare the life of your friend, Nate Heywood, and kill you instead, he took you up on the very tempting offer. Minus the killing, surprisingly.

 _For now,_ you thought. _What is he, a mobster?_ You pace the floor of the lofty (and locked) room on the uppermost floor of Eobard's trendy, modern home. _More like_ _a_ _lair._ No amount of high-end furnishings could disguise what this place really is. You pause and look out of the one window.

 _I wonder how far down..._ _Nope. Never mind._ The drop was incredibly high. No amount of tying bedsheets together would help you reach the bottom for a safe escape. And you didn't really feel like breaking your limbs today, so...

_Now what?_

Maybe you could pick the lock with a hairpin? As you go to give it a shot, there's a knock on the other side. _Who knocks on a prisoner's door?_ There's the noise of a key in the lock and the door opens slowly. The Dark Archer, Malcolm Merlyn, asks before peeking his head in, “Are you decent?”

“Uh, yeah. It's not like I have anything else to change into.”

“That's about to change,” he says mysteriously. “And besides, you never know. You could be one of those free spirit types.”

“What do you mean 'that's about to change'?”

“ _Eobard_ ,” Malcolm says the name with annoyance, “sends his apologies for your unfortunate confinement. He claims he's running late with his meeting with the President, but wishes to have dinner with you, tonight.”

“What kind of sick game is this?”

“This is Eobard's world and we just live in it, apparently.” Malcolm turns around to shout down the long winding staircase, “Darhk! Hurry up with the dress!”

“I am not your slave!” Damien rebuttals as he comes into view behind Malcolm. “If anything you should be doing what _I_ tell you.”

“Not if we both have to do whatever Thawne tells us to. Unfortunately, we're equals there-”

“Wait,” you interrupt. “What dress?” Damien offers you a long rectangular box. You are _so_ confused. You open it, finding a bright, flowy yellow dress with a plunging neckline inside.

“It's- it's beautiful... but _why_?”

“Thawne has a certain taste,” Damien explains. “He has a thing for yellow.”

“It's kind of annoying...” Malcolm adds. “Anyway, he wants to treat you or something. I'd take the deal, honey.” Malcolm and Damien leave you with your new gift, letting you know they'll be back to escort you when dinner is ready. You hold the yellow dress to your body in front of the full-length mirror by the bed. It really was a lovely gown. Your gold wrist cuffs will look nice with it, too... But why would this wicked man buy you a dress? Or want to have dinner with you?

 _Okay, I'll play along_ , you think. _And then, when there's an opening, I'll run._

 

* * *

 

The stupidly extravagant mantle clock is driving you mad and not only because of how ridiculous it looks (with weird semi-naked, gold toddlers attached on either side of it). Its ticking is all you can hear throughout this massive dining room, as you sit one head of the table. You start to wonder why you've agreed to have dinner with this madman. Just because he throws some yellow fabric (albeit very comfortable fabric) and a wide variety of food your way doesn't mean he won't be horrible to you.

_Right?_

Having waited long enough, you're about to shove a forkful of potatoes into your mouth when you hear a voice say, “And you weren't going to wait for me?”

At last, Eobard walks purposefully into the room wearing a fancy bespoke suit with what you can't help but notice is a tie matching your dress.

“I figured I'd done my share of waiting,” you try to say boldly.

“Indeed.” He sits down across from you at the other side of the table. “You look absolutely beautiful. Do you like it?” he asks. “I picked it out for you myself.”

You don't respond and defiantly shove more potatoes in your mouth. _What is he trying to do? Butter me up for being his prisoner? Not gonna happen, pal!_

“Alright, alright,” he says, starting to fill his own plate, “I understand. But just know that I'm not _all_ bad.” You blow a puff of air at his words.

“You're insane, that's what you are!” you finally blow up at him.

“You could at least show a little thanks!” Eobard raises his voice gesturing to all he has provided.

“You really _are_ crazy... Thinking I'll show some gratitude for all these- these flashy _things_ , when I'm being kept here. Yeah, _right_!” Your chair makes a skidding noise as you get up to leave and you make your way back down the hall to the staircase leading to your damsel-like tower.

And then a thought comes to mind. _What if I actually tried to leave right now?_

You had passed a backdoor to the house, so you make a break for it and jimmy the lock with miraculous success thanks to your handy dandy hairpin. You run as fast as your legs can carry you in this unfortunately lengthy dress and into the woods. Overgrown branches and prickles scratch your bare arms trying to maneuver through them.

Not long after you've made it far into the thickness of the forest, a man's faint yell can be heard back at the house. _Eobard_. The only problem is the direction of the yell is hard to decipher. Which means one thing.

You're lost.

Spinning around in the clearing, you try to assess your current location and which way to head next when a heavy _crack_ comes from beside you. You turn very slowly and come face to face with a huge grizzly bear.

“Okay, niiiice bear,” you say, trying so hard to sound calm. Never taking an eye off the intimidating beast, you try carefully to step backwards, but trip on a protruding tree root and fall into the dirt. The bear makes a low rumbling sound in its throat and stands up on its hind legs, towering above. You brace yourself for a most certain drawn out death.

Then the forest floor starts stirring in a dusty mini-cyclone of red lights. Almost out of nowhere, a blast of red lightning shoots directly at the bear, causing it to hit the ground with a hard _thud_. It scurries to its feet and takes off into the extensive woods beyond. You can't help but close your eyes and brace yourself again for whatever has newly arrived. _Surely this is the end!_

But nothing comes.

Instead, when you open your eyes, a hand is being offered to you. And attached to the hand is none other than Eobard Thawne.

“Wha- What did you do?” you ask.

“Later. We have to go back,” he says. “ _Now._ ”

“I don't-” A new sound, a haunting one, echoes through the trees. “What was that?”

“If you let me take you back, you won't have to find out.” Even Eobard sounds scared. Looking over his shoulder, there's something dark floating in the air. Something dead and ghost-like. Decomposed, even.

Without another word on the matter, Eobard scoops you up and runs like you never thought possible. Everything goes by in a blur but you can still hear the eerie calls of the scary creature chasing you. You think you can see the house through the trees-

Eobard hollers suddenly, like he's in pain, but pushes himself harder, faster. He manages in the final seconds of close pursuit to burst into the house and slam the door behind him, locking it as a final measure. The _thing_ startles you by ramming up against the door repeatedly.

“Can it get in?” you ask shrilly.

“Ah,” he hisses, clutching the side of his arm. “No. No, I have the place lined with a rare material. Blocks meta-human powers and supernatural beings.”

You cautiously move to his side to assess what might be causing his pain. “Did it... touch you?”

Eobard nods. The fabric on his suit is missing and reveals a section of skin on his arm now turned a decayed grey colour, mixed with some bloody scratches from the brush. You almost ask him if it hurts, but clearly it does. It's a horrible mess. No thought to it, you rip a long strip off your dress and wrap it around his abnormal wound, not entirely sure it'll help, but with the hope that it will.

“Let's get you fixed up.”

He leads you to his en-suite bathroom at the east wing of the house. You tell him to sit down, and remarkably, he listens. Eobard examines his arm while you dig through his medicine cabinet and drawers.

“It's pointless,” he says. You don't listen to him. In attempting to apply various medical treatments to his wound, Eobard who is proving to be a difficult patient, complains at your touch.

“AHHH! That hurts!”

“If you hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much!” you tell him off.

“If you hadn't run away none of this would've happened,” he says irked.

“Well, if you hadn't pissed me off, I- Nope, I still would've left.” Your blood is boiling now, you have to get out of here. Before someone regrets something. Before you wound him yourself.

“Leaving again, I see?”

“Don't you worry, I'm not leaving your precious lair. Not with Casper's deranged cousin skulking around out there.” Retiring to your semi-metaphorical tower, you make sure to slam the door loud enough so Eobard can hear how much he irritates you from across the house.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, you wake up feeling guilty. _It really was my fault he got hurt. If I hadn't r_ _u_ _n..._

At the very least, you supposed you should thank him for saving you from the bear. And also maybe for shouting. It's a shock your door isn't locked when you go to turn the handle. If anything, it would make sense for Eobard to barricade you in, on top of locking it.

You wander into the dining area to find Eobard putting out an array of different breakfast foods on the table. He turns at hearing your footsteps entering the room, but says nothing.

“Um, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened to you last night. You were right when you said if I hadn't left-" you say awkwardly. “Anyway um, thank you, for the bear and all.”

_Did he smile a little?_

“Water under the bridge,” he says with a wave of a hand. “And thank you for trying to help me after.”

“What did you mean last night when you said, 'it's pointless?'”

Eobard thinks for a second before asking, “Care to join me for brunch? Let's chat.”

He goes on to reveal the truth about last night. The lightning, the impossibly fast running, and that grotesque thing. Eobard confesses he is something called a Speedster (so much for thinking he was only a mobster!) and the thing chasing you both was something called a Time Wraith, a being that hunts careless time travellers. _Does_ _this mean Eobard is from a different time?_

“The Time Wraiths came after me because I used my speed,” he says. “I had been repressing the Speed Force inside me up until the point I had to save you. That's how it found me.”

_So he risked his life to save me?_

The conversation continues long after brunch and into the living area. Eobard attempts to put on classical music, the kind that has sometimes carried its way up to your room, over the sound system. He smacks the remote on the armrest of the couch.

"This technology is far beyond my time sometimes. Here you try." You take the remote from him and manage to get the music to play through the speakers.

"Aren't you like, a genius or something? And how old are you, anyway?" you ask, remembering what he had said about time travelling. He chuckles at the question.

"I know I may look a bit older than you, but in actuality, you're probably almost five hundred years older than I am."

You laugh and the ridiculous thought. "That is so bizarre."

"Very." There's a pause.

"What's it like for you? Living in the past, I mean."

"Far more different than you can imagine."

"I dunno,” you say, shifting on the couch. “I have a pretty good imagination. I'd have to if I'm to stay in the tower forever." A funny look appears on Eobard's face as quickly as it disappears.

"You uh, you don't have to stay in there. You can wander around the house if you like."

"Oh, how generous of you," you say sarcastically with the tiniest of smiles.

"Just not the west wing,” he adds. “Do not go there or-"

"Or what?" you try daringly.

"Or there will be trouble."

 _W_ _hat could that possibly mean?_ The two of you have been kind of hitting it off today... Would Eobard really do something to you if you _did_ wander into the west wing? He's starting to look like he wants to change the subject.

"Would you like to see my library?"

 

* * *

 

 

“Soooo,” Malcolm says when he catches you in the den with a cup of tea and one of Eobard's books. “I see the darling of the house has been upgraded to roaming the rest of the living quarters.”

“What an honest to goodness saint, Thawne is,” Damien says with a monotone. Truthfully, you find their disdain for the Speedster amusing. They always sound like children.

And weirdly enough, this past week has been rather lovely. You've gotten to read voraciously from Eobard's personal library and share your thoughts on each one with him over many games of chess by the fireplace.

You smile at them. “He's not the _worst_ ,” you joke as the men roll their eyes. “And really, I'm only not supposed to go near the west wing of the house-” Malcolm and Damien give each other suspicious side glances.

“You don't say?” Malcolm says. “What's his highness' reasoning behind that?”

“He didn't say,” you reply warily. “Just that there would be trouble if I did.”

“Well, you better listen to the man,” Damien suggests. “Who knows what kind of _dangerous_ _objects_ he's got hiding in there.”

“We'll leave you to your book.”

They leave the house hurriedly (though it seemed like they were trying not to let it appear so). Thinking that whole experience to be super odd, you are now curious at what might be in the west wing...

Eobard isn't home, so...

Before you know it, you've wandered into the forbidden section of Eobard's home. It's notably darker than the rest of the house, quite creepy in fact. There's some light, though, coming from the room at the end of this hallway. You feel the need to tiptoe as you enter the unfamiliar space.

_What is that thing?_

On a table positioned in the middle of the room and sitting in a glass case, rests a weapon. A daunting looking spear. You take in every detail of the weapon. It's frightfully fascinating... But what's its significance? Is this the reason why he doesn't want you in here?

There's a sound of a vehicle pulling up in the driveway. Eobard is home from the labs. You can't let him catch you in this part of the house! You run full speed down the corridor and slide to stop along the hardwood floors just as Eobard opens the front door.

“(Y/N)! How was your day, today?” he asks, approaching you. Hopefully he doesn't notice you out of breath.

“Delightful, thank you.”

He surveys you for a second. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” _Act innocent._ He seems to be buying it.

“I bought you something today.”

“If it's another dress I really-”

“No. It's the new book you mentioned the other day.”

You gasp as he presents it. “Oh my goodness! But it doesn’t come out for another few months!”

“I have my ways.” You can hear the pride in his voice. Something overcomes you and you end up giving him a giddy hug as thanks. Eobard's arms hold on to you after the moment of surprise has passed.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask, looking up at him.

“I suppose so,” he says, clearly trying to already prepare an answer.

“You were going to kill Nate until I offered up myself in his place. So why didn't you kill me?”

“I didn't expect you to be... the way you are.” His sincere eyes search yours and he places a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Selfless. Courageous. Enchanting... and very beautiful. In every aspect.”

_Oh._

Not only do you feel your face flush, you feel the need to flee. Not out of the house this time, but to your room. To think about _things_. You clutch the new book to your chest and say, “Thank you again for the book,” and turn to walk away before he's able to catch the smile breaking free across your face.

 

* * *

 

 

On the following day, you wake with the same smile. You wonder what Eobard has planned for the two of you today since it's Saturday and he needn't be at S.T.A.R. Labs as long as he normally is.

With a bounce in your step, you make your way to the kitchen to see what's been pre-planned for your brunch but are stopped short when you hear a commotion coming from the off-limits west wing. Something doesn't feel right... Against better judgement (again), you follow the sound of slightly raised voices to the room you found yesterday. On its floor are shards of glass everywhere, while Malcolm and Damien fight over the spear which lies on the table.

“What are you two doing in here?” They eye you up like you're just what they needed.

_Uh-oh. Maybe I shouldn't have spoken up._

They look at each other conspiratorially. Damien says, “Truce for now?”

“Truce for now,” Malcolm replies, practically reading Darhk's mind.

Damien stalks over in your direction. “You know, we could ask you the same question.”

“Little Miss Break-The-Rules.”

“Don't you think Thawne is a little overbearing?” Damien asks. “And so full of himself... At least we think so. But no, of course _you_ wouldn't because you're smitten with the monster, aren't you?”

_Does he expect me to answer that?_

“We want to knock him down a few pegs for the way he's treated us. And all we need to do that is _this_ spear...” You let out a scream as Damien grabs your body in a tight hold. “And _you_.”

He drags you back over to Malcolm, who is admiring the weapon in his hands.

“Now what should we do to her first?” Malcolm wonders aloud. “We could start small? Leave a tattoo on her for Thawne in big letters saying, 'Merlyn and Darhk were here'?”

“I don't know,” Damien wavers. “What about, 'Darhk and Merlyn were here'?”

“Step away from her!” comes a voice from across the room.

Eobard has returned and he looks angry, but also very afraid.

“Ah, Thawne, glad you could join us. Merlyn and I were trying to decide how to ruin your lady friend for you. There's the tattoo idea, but why do I feel like we should throw her out the window in front of you?”

“Stop,” Eobard pleads (and he doesn't come across as the pleading type, either). “Don't hurt her. She's done nothing to you. It's me you want. Hurt me instead. Just let her go.”

“Now we're talking,” Malcolm says with a wicked grin. Eobard defeatedly makes his way over to Damien, who shoves you away, just as Malcolm tosses the spear to Damien. He whacks the spear into the Speedster's midsection and sends him flying across the room into a wall. Eobard groans.

He's not getting up. _Get up!_ You try to go to him but Damien points the weapon at you as a warning. The duo hovers over his body and proceeds to taunt him. Poke and prod him with its sharpest point. Eobard sees you standing there frozen in despair.

“Run, (Y/N),” he chokes out. “Run!”

You only make it a few feet out of the room, doing as he says, but then again...

When have you ever done as he says?

Before heading back in to face these foes, you get a strange feeling in the back of your mind, like there are memories being suppressed. Some including these gold cuffs you wear habitually. You stare at your gold-wearing wrists in curiosity, then re-enter the room feeling a surge of fearlessness.

“Hey, assholes! Hit me with your best shot!” You step towards the enemies, and when Damien shoots a blast from the spear, you instinctively deflect the blast with your gold cuff. It rebounds off the accessory and back at Darhk, sending him flying into the wall unconscious. Malcolm scurries for the spear and hesitates before trying the same attack. When he does, you block the powerful shot in the same way with the cuffs. Merlyn gets thrown on top of his rival/teammate, also with lost consciousness.

Making sure to pick up the fallen spear first, you then focus your attention fully on your wounded Eobard on the floor.

“How hurt are you? Can you stand?”

He is able, thank God, with a little bit of your help. Eobard looks at a loss for words and not because of getting the wind knocked out of him over and over from his assailants.

“You _amaze_ me,” he finally says with a shake of his head.

"I couldn't let them hurt you. Not after what you did for me back there. You saved me. Again."

With the spear still in hand, you pass it into his own and pull his face down to yours to lay a kiss on him.

He smiles at your advances. You blush, eyes now downcast.

“So uh... what do we do now?” you ask.

“Darling, we can do whatever you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Tumblr user @rosathawne: "Hi, could you write a strory on Eobard Thawne in wich you are his prisoner?"


End file.
